Jet Pack Blues
by FrankandJoe3
Summary: In a lifestyle of Kevlar and explosions, nothing hurts more than natural causes. Wally's father dies of a heart attack and he doesn't know how to handle it.


**For Jaddis.**

* * *

><p>Mary West was halfway through the load of laundry when she heard the particular clatter upstairs that meant Wally was getting ready to leave. Kneeling in front of the dryer, she looked up at the ceiling that separated them and got to her feet with a little huff, looking in the folded pile behind her on the table and taking up one of her son's many jackets, walking to the foot of the stairs. Her timing was a little off, but she managed to clip the fifteen year old's shoulder with the jacket she held out and he stumbled enough to come to a stop.<p>

"Mom!" he gave a half-hearted cry, the anger out-weighed by the temporary panic from his stumble.

She folded her arms over her chest, still holding the jacket loosely in hand. Wally squirmed, his impatience almost overwhelming, but he gave a huff of his own as he straightened to face her. He practically vibrated in place, and Mary could see the communicator tucked haphazardly in his ear from this angle.

"Fair guess says your room isn't clean?" she finally asked, and he all but bent over backwards with the groan he gave off.

She stared expectantly and he straightened, before shaking his head, running a hand back through his hair.

"I mean, not technically, but-," he started stiffly.

"Wallace Rudolf West!"

The redhead averted his eyes, fingers tapping out against his thigh.

"I told you a _week _ago to clean your room!"

"I have to go," Wally emphasized and he slowly began to edge backwards towards the door. "You know... people to protect? World to save? Sound familiar?"

Mary held her posture, arms folded firmly over her chest and eyes locked tight on him, but she recognized that the battle was lost. She shook her head frustratedly.

"I swear," she murmured, holding the jacket out for her son. "You go save the world or whatever, but when you get home, I expect that room to be _spotless_. Understand?"

Wally took the jacket and slipped an arm in it, and in a near literal flash, he kissed her cheek and ran out the door with just the one jacket sleeve. Mary went to the window and watched until she couldn't see him anymore, a whole of a few seconds.

* * *

><p>Wally had caught up with Robin to check out the guys he'd been tailing, but the lead fell flat a few minutes before Wally rolled up, so they decided to reroute to the Cave and hang out with the others for a while. They put a movie on, enjoyed Megan's newest kitchen-related experiment, and proposed a weekend paintball extravaganza. A good half of the team had never been, so the idea was settled and scheduled for that next weekend, provided the world didn't interrupt.<p>

The speedster pointed out that a team of heroes going into battle with paintball guns would catch the baddies off-guard, but everyone else seemed pretty adamant about a bullet of lead outweighing one of paint.

The Zeta spits him out ten minutes from home and he walked it, having had enough adventure for the day.

When he got to his street, an ambulance passed by him and he stopped in his tracks to watch it go with a small frown. A small part of him worried, but the sirens weren't on, so he brushed it off. It was probably a false call. There were plenty of old people down the street who might've activated their life alert or something.

The fear that he had so easily brushed off knocked his heart out of rhythm when he saw that his front door stood wide open. Immediately, every what-if rushed through his mind and he was a flash running inside, hands drawn into fists, ready to fight whoever thought it was a good idea to break in his house. He made his rounds, feet barely touching the ground in his efforts, before he found his mom in the kitchen.

There were no masked men or blood splatters along the wall, but she was sitting at the kitchen table with her head in her arms. When she didn't move, he took a cautious step in, the shake in his hands more than just natural vibrations.

"Mom?" he said softly, trying not to sound too afraid.

She didn't move at first, and it drew the redhead a few steps closer, his stomach tied in knots. When she stirred, it was too slow for his liking, and then all at once too much when she lifted her head to look at him. Her eyes were red and puffy, and her cheeks, still wet with tears, readily reflected the light. The deep sorrow in her eyes quickly traded out for the rawest rage as she recognized who stood in front of her.

She leaped up from her chair and lunged out at her son, grabbing his arms hard enough for him to flinch in both surprise and pain, and her glare had him, for once in his life, speechless. He was just left to stare in this state of terror, his wide emerald eyes searching her for any explanation he was missing out on.

"This is your fault!" she roared, and the sheer volume had Wally trying to jerk back from her grip with a tremble in his step. "They said he would've made it if he had gotten to the hospital sooner!"

_He. _It ran itself in circles through his mind until it was all he could focus on, until it overcame his tremble and made it past his lips in a cautious question.

"Your father!" Mary screamed, and when the realization hit her again, she collapsed against her son with a sob. "He's... oh, Wally..."

Wally's limbs locked in place and he made no effort to hold her up, mind turning itself in circles.

"What..." his voice fell flat, and he had to fight to get it out, "happened... to dad?"

His mother sank to her knees and set her forehead against her arm, shoulders shaking with each pathetic sob.

"He's... he's dead," she choked out, and she repeated it until her sobs muddled the words, but the words had already taken up repetition in his mind until it was all he heard.

_He's dead. He's dead. He's dead._

His knees grew weak, and a pressure started at the base of his throat. He shook his head as her fingers loosely tried wrapping around his hand.

"No," he breathed, staring forward at the wall of the kitchen, and even through that with time. "No, he's not. He's..."

_He's dead. He's dead. He's dead._

His hands twitched, and eventually he managed to draw them into loose fists.

"Why would you say that?" the pressure in his throat grew. "Why would you...?"

It became too much to speak past, and he fought his limbs until he could manage a small step back from her. One step became several, until he had his back to the door, breathing becoming labored.

_He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. _

Without his support, Mary collapsed to the wood floor and curled up in an infantile manner, balling her hands up and bringing them up over her eyes.

"It was a heart attack," her voice was muffled by both the wood and her palms, but the words were magnified to the fifteen year old. "They couldn't... Wally, baby... they..."

Wally couldn't back up any farther, but the emotions running him through made him feel like he was sinking down at an alarming rate, the world feeling so far away. His breathing staggered and he raised his trembling hands up to his temples, fingers grasping absently at his hair.

_He's dead. He's dead. He's dead. _

"No," he whispered, and then he yelled it, and then he yelled it again in a broken voice, shaking his head desperately.

His mom brought one of her hands down in time to see one of his fumbling at the door knob, his chest heaving with each breath he fought for, hand shaking too hard for a good enough grip. He also might've been vibrating. She couldn't tell, and her head hurt too much to try and distinguish the two.

"Wally," she whimpered, but he was out the door.

Wally left the door ajar and took off down the sidewalks in a blur. The wind whipped at his skin and for a good stretch, he was able to blame the tears on it bearing down on his eyes. When the tears became enough to turn the world misty, and he found himself out-of-breath from the knot choking off his throat rather than the distance, he knew it couldn't be anything else.

_He's dead. He's dead. He's DEAD. _

He wasn't even sure how far he'd gone, but the weight of it all was bearing down on him and he knew he needed to stop before he went headfirst through a car and just kept going. It was hard to see now, but he picked out an apartment complex after a few minutes- his top speed- and scaled the side up until he could get a hold on the fire escape. He took it to the top of the building and kept on, until he realized he would go straight off the edge if he didn't stop.

When he stopped, there was a brief moment of clarity as the world returned back to normal speed. The sides of his eyes were sticky with tears and his chest heaved, but it was slower now, and he took a look around. It took a second, but he recognized where he was. Fifteen minutes north of here, he would have made it Wayne Manor. He couldn't help but give a little smile, despite the throbbing in his temples.

He took his phone from his pocket, nearly haven forgotten it was there, and disregarded all of the missed calls and texts he had gotten. In the back of his mind, as he found Dick's name in his contacts, he knew that most of the calls were his mom begging him to come back to try and help. He could've helped. He was normally glued to his phone... the one time he wasn't...

[Boy Wonderful:

Pine Creek Apartments roof. Please]

_HE'S DEAD. HE'S DEAD. HE'S DEAD. _

The clarity was over far too fast and his knees grew week as the tears forced themselves to the surface. He stumbled over to the generator and collapsed against it with a little groan, setting his phone down and looking up at the sky and trying to slow his breath until he could think halfway even. He wasn't making a lot of progress, but he managed to calm down enough to stop his hands from trembling long enough to finish the text.

[Boy Wonderful:

Pine Creek Apartments roof. Please hurry. Emergency.]

He managed to send it this time, and abandoned his phone somewhere off to the side, tilting his head up again towards the sky.

_HE'S DEAD. HE'S DEAD. HE'S DEAD. You could've saved him. HE'S DEAD and you could've saved him. _

Wally gave a broken little sound and ducked his head down, wiping his cheek with the palm of his hand, but it didn't do him much good. The tears he wiped were quickly replaced, the speed of which growing by the second. He was alone up here, and he knew that should've been a comfort that no one was going to see him but Dick, provided he actually showed up. All it did was reiterate his thoughts, louder now.

_YOU COULD'VE SAVED HIM. You're alone, HE'S DEAD, and you could've SAVED HIM. _

The reminders tore down at him and beat into his head until he couldn't stand it any longer. He gave a dull scream and turned, punching the side of the generator. He punched it once, and as the pain shot through his knuckles and helped counter the emotional ache, he kept on. Some time before the skin on his fingers gave way to blood, he was met with rough sobs that drained him, physically and mentally, and eventually had him curling up on the roof top just like his mom had.

The reminder made him cry harder and he brought his hands up over his eyes. He remembered her there at the table, and remembered what she had told him.

_This is YOUR FAULT. _

It joined in with the other thoughts bearing down on him and he gave something between a whimper and a scream. The sobs racking his chest hurt like nothing he'd ever known and muddled any sensible rationale.

He was trying to remember the last thing he'd said to his dad, but he was having a hard time remembering how he had made it this far.

How long ago had his dad died? If he had ran the way home instead of walking, could he have saved him? If he had stayed and cleaned his room, could he have saved him? Could he have saved him?

_He's DEAD and this is YOUR FAULT. _

Wally drew himself in as tight as he could, fingers raw and throbbing, but near undetectable against the throb in his temples. He genuinely felt like he was going to explode, or maybe he'd die, too. He couldn't tell if he wanted to. The pain was unbearable, either way.

He sobbed until his head was too heavy to hold up, and then, when he couldn't keep enough breath in his system, he was blessed with sweet unconsciousness.

* * *

><p>Dick had already been on the streets looking for Wally when he had gotten his text. Barry had called him maybe ten minutes after Wally had left, and neither of them wanted to even imagine how the speedster was going to take the news.<p>

"You've been in his shoes before, Dick, and you're going to be the only one he wants to talk to. Bring him out of this."

The thirteen year old didn't need the encouragement. He changed into civvies and was just hopping out of the Zeta when he got the text. He had to take the Zeta again to get closer, and then he had to run a while, but he found the place without a lot of difficulty, and scaling the side of the building was one of the easier things he'd had to do all day.

He found Wally on the roof, asleep in a ball that he had drawn himself into. Dick stared at him for a long moment before putting his hands behind his head and taking a long sigh. Wally's fingers looked like raw meat and he wondered how the bones were holding up from the wreckage he was getting. The freckled cheeks looked nearly swollen and the tears were plentiful, to the point that the flush of his face put the red of his hair to shame.

"Wally..." Dick murmured, and he brought his hands over his eyes, composing himself.

It was obviously very different for Wally. Dick had lost both of his parents in a very brutal fashion, and he had observed it, all at a very young age. Wally had lost his father, unobserved, at a relatively older age. Their reactions and how they coped wouldn't match up entirely, but the ebony just about knew what Wally needed. A distraction was definite, but that could come later.

He made his way over and very carefully, he sat Wally up against the generator, and then he bandaged his fingers for good measure. Wally gave incoherent pained sounds, but he didn't wake up. Dick took it as his cue to try and clean his friend up, the best he could. He cleaned the tears from his cheeks, and he found aspirin in his utility belt. A little nudge had Wally semi-conscious, and he coerced him to take some. When that was taken care of, Dick did the only other thing he could think of, and sat beside his best friend, gently putting an arm around him.

He tipped his head back, too, after some time, and let his eyes shut as he rehearsed things he could say, or possible ways the conversation could go. He was in solitude with his thoughts for a long time, up until Wally stirred under his arm with a confused little hum.

"Rob..." he asked quietly, not quite awake yet.

Dick gave a confirming little hum, but kept his face pointed upwards.

"Hey there," he returned casually.

Wally was quiet as he woke up, looking between his friend and the arm around him carefully. He didn't lean into the affection, but he didn't lean away either. They found a comfortable silence and Dick absently studied the clouds.

It didn't take long for Wally's memories to file back into place, and Dick could tell when everything was back in place, because he felt the redhead tense. He felt Wally's eyes on him, and heard the little choking sound, and he shook his head.

"Barry told me," he spared his friend from having to recall the full extent of what had happened.

They were quiet again and Dick continued studying the clouds, up until he heard the little sniffle. He lowered his head and looked up at Wally, and for a moment, the expression nearly consumed him. It was nothing short of agony. Wally was a word away from falling apart, and his face was contorted in an effort to hold it together. Tears welled in his eyes and he looked ashamed of them. Dick tightened the arm he had around him and curled his fingers in his friend's jacket sleeve, forcing his head back up before he found himself misty-eyed, too.

"Go ahead," he encouraged the other, keeping his voice soft. "It helps, I think."

Wally was hesitant at first, but when the first little sob slipped out, the others came flying out. He shook under his friend's arm, and maybe he leaned into it. He found that the company made it a little better, and this time, he was able to stop with time. He wasn't sure how long he had sobbed, but when he looked over at Dick, the thirteen year old didn't look like he had even noticed. His expression was almost as if today wasn't any different from any of their other days together.

He wasn't sure if it made things better or not.

When he had texted Dick earlier, this wasn't the comfort he had been expecting. He wasn't sure what he had been expecting, but it had definitely involved more talking, or maybe pizza. His appetite wasn't exactly standing strong right now, but he'd have appreciated the thought. A part of him was waiting for Dick to apologize, but he never heard it.

Instead, he heard himself say, "It's my fault," in a voice much smaller than he'd admit to giving.

"You don't believe that," Dick dismissed it easily.

Wally's eyes tightened. He knew his anger was misplaced and that his friend was right, but he didn't like being dismissed that easily. _He _knew how he felt. Maybe he didn't blame himself, but his mom had, and it was still there in his head.

"How would _you _know?" he spat sorely.

Dick cracked a little smile, for a moment, and then it was gone. He lowered his head and met Wally's gaze.

"Alright, let's say you actually believe it's your fault," Dick entertained his fantasy, and Wally shrugged his arm sourly, so Dick set it in his lap lazily. "Let's be realistic here. You don't have a lot of strength, when it comes down to it. You can tote me around, but... he was a lot heavier than me. If you could hoist him up, I really doubt that you'd be able to take him to a hospital in time to do much good."

Wally didn't have a retort, so he just leaned back against the generator and folded his arms over his chest, avoiding the other's gaze. Dick could tell he was on the verge of tears again.

"Look," Dick leaned closer again, drawing the other's gaze over when he waved his hand in a casual brush, "I blamed myself, too, for a while. You try and... convince yourself that it's your fault because you don't want to just let go. If you blame yourself, you can still hang onto that anger, and then you can still hold onto a piece of him. You hold onto this anger and he's still there. You feel like... if you let him go, you're a bad son. You're not, though, Wally. You can let him go- it's over now, it's done. You can't do anything else."

Wally drew his knees up to his chest and hugged them as the tears started again, and Dick could see his jaw locked.

"I have powers, Dick," he choked out, the venom in his words self-inflicted. "I have super speed! I could've-!"

"No," Dick intervened.

He went to put a hand on Wally's shoulders, but Wally turned his tear-stained glare his way and he decided against it.

"I don't want to hear it!" the redhead snapped, and Dick raised an eyebrow curiously, "It was different when you lost your parents. You couldn't have done anything either way!"

Dick's brow fell even with the other, and they both fell in a flicker of his own anger, but he swallowed it down and took a breath before allowing himself to reply.

"I could've told the police," he shrugged, and Wally's glare lessened. "I knew what Zucco had planned. He told us. You had no way of knowing. You were going against DNA and time. Look, grieve all you need, but you can't blame yourself."

The admittance caught Wally off-guard and his anger ebbed away until the guilt was clear in his eyes. Dick shook his head when the redhead went to apologize. Wally was quiet, staring at his knees, and he swallowed carefully before leaning back towards his friend. Dick put his arm back around the other's shoulders, and Wally relaxed under it. Dick went back to watching the clouds, and Wally eventually joined him.

"Does it... get better?" the redhead asked after a long time.

Dick looked over at him, but Wally was watching the sky. He couldn't help but manage a stiff smile anyway.

"A part of you's always going to be a little sore. You'll lean on people and you'll move on. You'll have good days, and bad days, and some days... you won't even remember him."

The quiet set in again, and Dick took some comfort in it, and took some more in that Wally was accepting the affection. The two just watched the sky for some time, just enjoying the company of the person beside them. Wally cried again, for a little, but it didn't get nearly as bad as the other times had. When these tears stopped, he wiped them away with his sleeve and looked at his friend.

"Dick...?" he asked, quietly.

"Yeah?"

"I'm gonna lean on you."

"Alright."

It was dark out before the two eventually left, and some quick calls had them walking to Wayne Manor knowing that Bruce was alright with Wally staying over and that Mary was going to be staying with Iris and Barry for a while.

Alfred had hot cocoa waiting for them.

* * *

><p><strong>-F.J. III<strong>


End file.
